Another Golden Journey
by tea-and-fiction
Summary: Golden Age AU Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie find themselves suddenly in Narnia, not long after the defeat of the White Witch and the beginning of the Golden Age. Beside their newly crowned children, they grow to love the mysterious land of Narnia, Aslan, and the magical world that brought their family together once again.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: The idea for this story came from a random screenshot of a Tumblr post I saw on Pinterest. Unfortunately, I have no idea who wrote the original prompts, and I have since lost track of the Pinterest post because I was an idiot and didn't save them. I tried to google the prompts, but I came up with a number of different posts and I'm not sure who the original prompter was. So, if any of you have any idea who originally came up with this idea so I can link/credit them, please let me know! I loved this idea, and I hope I do it justice, but I'm also going to be giving it my own take here. I'm really just taking the general prompt idea and running with it on my own.

...

Helen Pevensie had not been well, not since she had made the difficult decision to send her beloved children to the country for their safety a few weeks prior. Now her every waking moment found her mind reeling with not only the fact that her dear husband was off fighting in the war, and that the situation in London was growing even more dangerous by the day, but also with worry for her children. To add to her worries, she also had to face all of these issues alone for the very first time, with no distractions from her children or support from her husband. Needless to say, all of these new developments made it difficult to continue her daily life as it had been, but she was trying the best she could to stay positive about the whole affair. Her children needed her to stay strong for when they returned.

All of her worries often led her to be distracted, however, and that was how she now found herself browsing through a small, unknown, and run-down bookstore on the outskirts of Finchley, attempting to shake off the melancholy that was surrounding her. She aimlessly walked through the rows of worn books, running her fingers over the crumbling spines and unfamiliar titles, as if to look for something, but really seeing nothing. She sighed and pulled out a book at random from the shelves, flipping through the pages without even glancing at them.

As she browsed the books unseeingly, she allowed her mind to wander to the thought of her children once again. Were they happy living in the country? Were they safe? Had she made the right choice? She hoped that Peter and Susan were taking good care of Edmund and Lucy, and that they weren't forcing themselves to act too grown up. The war had destroyed the childhoods of so many other little boys and girls, and she desperately prayed it wouldn't do the same to her children. She hoped that Edmund hadn't grown any colder to his siblings. He'd been pulling away from her, and growing distant, before they'd left. If only this time away would help him to return to the happy child he had once been.

She unconsciously shut the book she was holding with a bang, startling herself out of her wandering thoughts. She begrudgingly placed the book back on the shelf, and with one last glance, she turned to leave, knowing there were things that needed to be done. She had already wasted enough time today.

She reached the front of the store and paused as her hand touched the handle.

"Please, let me bring them home soon. All of them." She closed her eyes for a brief moment and whispered the quiet prayer. Then, she opened her eyes once again.

The moment gone, she moved to turn the handle and open the door, only to find it stuck.

"What on earth?" She mumbled to herself, pushing and pulling on the door with more force. The stubborn thing didn't budge.

"Excuse me? I think your door is jammed!" She called out for the shop assistants, still attempting to turn the handle to no avail.

She was met only with silence.

"Excuse me? Is anyone there? Your door isn't opening!" She turned her back towards the door, calling out louder this time, and searching the shop with her eyes for any sign of help.

Nervous, she turned and began to walk around the front of the small shop, anxious to find anyone who might be able to explain what was going on. But there was no one in sight. Not a single person at the front of the store.

"Excuse me? Is there anyone here at all?" She yelled again, walking back toward the door. But still, there was no answer.

Her pace grew quicker and quicker until she had frantically searched all of the small shop's floor, with no one to be found.

Suddenly, she felt a breeze of warm air ruffle her hair from somewhere behind her. Curious, she turned around to see a door she hadn't noticed before, behind the small clerk's counter. It was just a simple wooden door, nothing special about it, but she could have sworn it hadn't been there before when she was searching. She stepped a bit closer. There seemed to be an unearthly golden light radiating from underneath the door.

"I suppose the workers could have gone inside this door, without me noticing." She said to herself. "Perhaps they couldn't hear me before. I'll just peek inside, and see if I can find anybody to help me. I'm sure they won't mind."

She placed her hand gently on the knob and turned the door. Unlike the front door of the shop, this door opened with ease. It swung inward, and the golden glow she had noticed before grew brighter, blocking her vision from seeing into the room. She stepped forward across the threshold almost as if she were in a trance.

She let out a gasp as the light suddenly grew brighter once she was completely inside the room, and she covered her eyes in shock. She could swear she also heard the sound of a lion roaring from somewhere in the distance.

When she lowered her hands from her eyes, the drab little bookstore in Finchley and the door had completely disappeared. In its place stood the most beautiful forest she had ever seen.

...

Despite the fact that he was currently fighting in a world war, Mr. Pevensie had been having an altogether boring day. His regiment was experiencing a rare respite in the constant fighting that had plagued them for months, leaving the men with nothing to do for the moment. The free time was welcome, to be sure, but he had become almost used to the constant danger and combat he had been involved in, and it had left him feeling out of sorts when he had nothing productive to do.

He'd already made sure his weapons were well taken care of, that his small section of the tent that he shared with three of his fellow soldiers was in order, and that his pack full of emergency provisions was ready to go at a moments notice. Now there was simply nothing else to do. This is what had led him to wander the fringes of their camp, walking to and fro aimlessly, letting his mind wander to thoughts of home and his family. He missed his wife dearly, and it hurt somewhat to think of how long he had been away from her and his children. The children had surely grown up quite a bit since he'd seen them last. His Lucy had been a little girl when he'd left, but he supposed by now she was in school with the rest of the children.

He pulled out the small picture of his little family that he kept in the inside pocket of his uniform, unfolding it and smoothing out its deep creases. He smiled down at the familiar faces in the photograph that he so dearly missed. What he wouldn't give for another boring, rainy day in Finchley, sitting with his wife and children in front of the fireplace, reading a newspaper, and simply living.

Suddenly, a strange rustle in the bushes caught his ear, startling him into awareness. He hastily returned the photo to his pocket, and cautiously began to walk towards the small patch of woods that the camp bordered.

"Who's there? State your intent." He called out, placing his hand on his pistol just in case.

Another small rustle sounded from further into the forest, but no one answered his question.

"It's probably just an animal, but it can't hurt to check all the same." He said aloud to no one. Besides, he had nothing else to do. He braced himself for a possible confrontation, and slowly advanced into the underbrush.

He walked for a few minutes, before deciding that it had to have been an animal. He could see no sign that any soldier or civilian had been there recently. He laughed quietly at his own paranoia, as he began to walk back the way he'd come. He'd been at war for so long that even a squirrel in the bushes was a possible threat to him now.

He walked for quite a while, wondering when he'd reach the edge of the trees. But, no matter how far he walked, he couldn't see an end to the foliage in front of him. Instead, the forest seemed to be getting thicker and deeper the farther he walked. The only explanation he could think of would be that he'd somehow managed to get turned around and wandered further in. Cursing his own ineptitude, he pulled his compass out of his pocket to get his bearings.

"What the-!" He exclaimed as he stared disbelievingly at the compass in his hands. The needle of his usually trusty instrument was moving about wildly in circles, almost as if someone was winding its hands like one would a clock.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he shoved the compass back into his pocket and tried to get his bearings. Unfortunately, he couldn't see the placement of the sun due to the thickness of the trees, so he was forced to guess which way he might need to go.

Reluctantly, he set off in the direction he thought was most promising. Surely, if he walked for long enough, he'd come to the edge of the forest and be able to find his way back to his camp somehow.

He walked for what felt like hours, and he grew more and more frustrated the further in he went. Was there no end to these trees? He had been under the impression that they'd only set up camp next to a small woodland, not an entire forest.

Suddenly, he came to an abrupt halt as the trees finally gave way somewhat, revealing a small clearing in front of him. Curiously, in the middle of the clearing, stood an iron street lamp like one might see on the streets of London. It was lit, despite it being daytime, and seemingly well maintained and free of rust. He stepped forward into the clearing and approached it cautiously.

Just as he reached his hand out to examine it, he was startled by a voice behind him calling his name.

"George?" He whipped his body around to see his wife standing at the edge of the clearing, looking as shocked to see him as he was to see her.

"Helen?" He gasped in disbelief, running forward to pull his wife into his arms.

"How are you here in France?" He asked her, gently holding her face in his hands, desperate to take in the sight of her after so long spent away. "This is impossible! Not to mention extremely dangerous with the war going on!"

"France? Is that where we are?" Helen answered dazedly. "But George, I was at a bookstore in Finchley no more than a few minutes ago!" Her eyes were wide with confusion and fear.

"There must be some explanation for this." He assured her soothingly, pulling her close to his chest in a comforting embrace. She nodded her agreement into his shoulder, accepting his words easily, but she didn't respond. So he simply held her for a few more seconds, savoring the feeling of holding her close, before letting go and studying her face carefully. One of her hands reached out gently to stroke his face, and he smiled.

"We should try and figure out where we are, my dear." He informed her gently. "If we walk long enough, we're bound to reach a town of some sort eventually where we'll be able to get our bearings. But stay close to me. I don't want you getting hurt. This is a war zone after all, and you're unarmed." He reached down and pulled his pistol out of his side holster, clutching its familiar weight in his right hand. With his other, he reached out and grabbed his wife's hand.

"Lead on then, George." She replied, shooting a small, trusting smile his way, before turning and looking determinedly at the strange lampost and the forest in front of her.

He nodded to her, and together they moved carefully into the forest in front of them. Yet again, he found himself walking and walking, and although the trees had become a bit more sparse, there still seemed to be no end to the forest they found themselves in. He clutched his wife's hand tighter in reassurance, although it was more for his sake than hers. He was beginning to grow worried now about the strange situation they had found themselves in.

Suddenly, he heard a noise in the brush in front of him, and he quickly came to a stop. As fast as he could, he pulled his wife behind him, shielding her with his body, and aimed his pistol at the bushes warily. His wife grasped his free arm tightly in apprehension, and he braced himself for the possibility that he would have to defend them both.

He was then thoroughly surprised to see a pair of large beavers walk through the bush instead of an angry Nazi soldier or a confused French villager.

"It's just beavers." He said, and he let out a half laugh, half sigh. He could feel his wife loosen her grip on his arm, and he turned to share a smile with her at the ridiculousness of the situation they had found themselves in.

That was, of course, the moment the impossible happened.

"My word, is it really more sons of Adam and daughters of Eve?" One of the beavers spoke in a decidedly male voice, which caused him to whip his head around and stare, frozen in shock, at the animals before him, certain he'd misheard.

"Do you think they also come from Spare Oom?" Now, it was the other beaver that spoke, this one with a more female, almost motherly tone. This time he couldn't deny the beaver was speaking. It was absolutely unreal to see the mouth of a beaver forming human language.

"George, what is this?" He heard his wife gasp from behind him.

"I, I don't know, Helen." He replied honestly, feeling almost out of breath from the shock.

"Well met, humans!" The beaver with the male voice called out. "I'm Mr. Beaver, and this here is my wife, Mrs. Beaver. You wouldn't happen to have come here through some place called War-Drobe, would you?"

"Wardrobe?" Helen muttered confusedly. "Where are we?"

"Why, you're in Narnia, dears!" The female beaver, apparently named Mrs. Beaver, answered. "Didn't you know?"

"Narnia? I've never heard of a place in France called Narnia." He replied.

The Beavers looked towards each other and shared a look that he couldn't quite determine, and then turned to look at him and his wife.

"I think we should take you to Cair Paravel, where our Kings and Queens are." Mr. Beaver said, and his wife nodded in agreement. "I think you'll find the answers you're looking for there. But maybe, first, we should stop at our dam and have some tea. Follow me, humans! We'll have you sorted out in no time at all." The Beavers then turned and began to walk through the forest, beckoning for them to follow with smiles on their faces.

George simply looked at his wife in bafflement. What in the world had they gotten themselves into?


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: To the reviewer who asked if I'm continuing this story, the answer is yes! I have quite a few chapters planned, although I'm not sure how long it will actually end up being. And to the other reviewer who asked about how long the Pevensies will be staying in Narnia, I'm afraid that's a spoiler I'm not willing to share. You'll just have to wait and see! ;) Anyways, thank you to everyone who has reviewed! I read and appreciate all of your kind words.

...

Despite his better judgment that told him that he shouldn't be following strange, talking, probably magical, beavers into unknown woods, Mr. Pevensie found himself holding his wife's hand tightly all the same and accompanying Mr. and Mrs. Beaver on a short walk through the woods to their home.

He supposed he should have expected to see not a 'regular' house as he was used to, but instead an actual beaver's dam. After all, these were actual beavers he was walking with, not humans. However, it surprised him to see it all the same. The quaint wooden structure was situated on the edge of where the immense forest met a calm stretch of a river, and it looked surprisingly homey. It stood much taller than any beaver's dam that Mr. Pevensie had ever seen in pictures or books, although it was still shorter than either he or his wife. In fact, he could see curtained windows on the sides, and a chimney emitting soft puffs of smoke attached to the roof of the dam, which projected an almost cottage-like feel, if you ignored the fact that it was made entirely out of sticks.

"Here we are!" Mrs. Beaver said pleasantly, proudly opening the door to her home and gesturing for them to come inside. "Do sit down and make yourselves comfortable. I'll get the water boiling for some tea, and I do believe I have a few scones left from breakfast this morning..." Her sentence trailed off as she walked through the door.

Mr. Pevensie shared a quick glance with his wife before ducking his head down to step inside. The interior of the dam was just as cozy as its exterior, and he found it to be a pleasing miniature version of an average home, complete with a miniature kitchen in which Mrs. Beaver was busying herself preparing them tea. In fact, if it weren't for the walls, he might have thought he was back in his late parent's summer cottage in England that he had visited as a young boy. He felt oddly at home, despite the strange circumstances.

As both of the Pevensies stood looking around them in curiosity, Mr. Beaver entered and sat himself down on one of the small stools that stood around a table in the center of the room. Following his lead, George led his wife to the table and pulled out a stool for her to sit on before seating himself as well. It was a little cramped, given that they were significantly larger than either of the Beavers, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

"Well, humans, how did you come to find yourselves in Narnia?" Mr. Beaver asked them curiously, a friendly smile on his furry face. "Oh, and pardon me, but I don't suppose I asked for your names earlier, so you might as well introduce yourselves."

"Right, of course." George found himself answering calmly, surprised at how well he was handling this outwardly despite feeling sufficiently bewildered inside. "My name is George Pevensie, and this is my wife Helen. We're from Finchley. Which is in England. And I can't rightly say how we ended up here in, what did you call it, Narnia? I was wandering in the woods in France just moments ago. At least, I thought I was. Now, I'm not quite so sure."

"I wasn't in France. I was in a bookstore, in Finchley." Helen spoke up softly, sounding puzzled. "I walked through a door that was behind the counter, and then I was suddenly in the woods with you, George."

"My, that is a curious tale." Mrs. Beaver replied as she began placing teacups, saucers, and some delicious looking blackberry scones on the table in front of her guests. "I've never heard of a 'Finch-lee' or a 'France' before. I was certain you'd have arrived the same way our dear Kings and Queens did. Are you certain you weren't near War-drobe? Or the land of Spare Oom?"

"Quite certain." George answered, confused at how this could be relevant at all. "I've never heard of any place with such strange names."

"Well, it would seem our monarchs came to be here in a different manner than you have." Mr. Beaver mused. "Although, I'm certain that, however you came to be here, it was Aslan who brought you all the same. There's no doubt about that!" Mrs. Beaver, hearing her husbands declaration, nodded her head in agreement as she set herself down at the table and poured herself a cup of tea.

"Aslan?" George questioned as he placed a scone on his plate. "I've never heard of such a leader. Is he in league with the Germans or is he with the Allied forces?"

"Germans?" Mr. Beaver scoffed. "I don't know what manner of creature a 'German' is. Aslan is the true King of Narnia, the great lion who comes from overseas."

"A lion?" Helen echoed, as she sipped her tea. "Curious. I think I heard a lion roaring before I found you in the forest, George." She turned to catch his eyes. He returned her gaze with a doubtful look, but the Beaver's latched onto her words.

"That settles it then. It couldn't have been anyone else who brought you here, I dare say!" Mr. Beaver insisted, sounding a bit excited.

"But if it was this mysterious Aslan who brought us here, whatever would he want us for?" Helen asked.

"Well, I'm sure he has his reasons." Mrs. Beaver insisted as she began to clean up the remnants of their tea. "He always wants what is best for Narnia, after all. I reckon the quickest way to find out what that reason may be would be to take you to Cair Paravel. And the sooner we get you there, the better, I think."

"Quite right. And if we leave now and don't dawdle, we should be able to get you both there within a few days." Mr. Beaver added, standing to his feet. "I'll start packing, and we should be able to leave in no time." He moved away from the table and began to busily help Mrs. Beaver pack different odds and ends into a few bags she had produced, leaving George sitting alone with Helen, slowly sipping tea and eating scones.

He watched the beavers for a few moments as they began to busily move around the inside of their home, packing food and supplies for their journey. They spoke quietly and familiarly to each other as they packed, moving in tandem almost. Although he couldn't hear everything they were saying, he could hear Mr. Beaver mention what the best routes would be, and he thought he heard Mrs. Beaver mention something about bringing a few different types of jam.

"George, should we follow them to this 'Cair Paravel'?" Helen whispered into his ear, startling him out of his observance. "How do we know that this isn't some trick or a trap of some kind? All of this is so fantastical I'm not sure I'm not just dreaming it all up." She shook her head slightly in bewilderment.

"I don't know what else we can do." He answered honestly, reaching out and squeezing her hand softly in reassurance. "I don't know how to get back to my camp in France, if that's even possible from where we are. And I certainly don't know how to get you back to Finchley, either. Maybe if we go and meet these mysterious monarchs they can give us a map, or maybe they'll have access to a telephone or telegraph that we can use to get help. At the very least, they may be able to point us in the right direction."

"I suppose you're right." She admitted, still looking worried. "It's just all so strange."

"We'll just have to trust these beavers, and hope that they can help us." He replied, and Helen nodded hesitantly in agreement, before smiling softly at him.

"Well, no matter what happens, I'm glad I got to see you." She said, reaching out to grab both of his hands tenderly. "I missed you very much, my dear."

"And I you, Helen." He returned her smile with a grin of his own.

"You ready, humans?" Mr. Beaver called, breaking the two of them apart. "I believe we've packed everything we need."

"I suppose so." George said reluctantly, rising from his chair. Helen did the same.

"Then let's hurry. No time to waste!" Mr. Beaver instructed, hurrying them all outside of the dam.

And with that, they were back into the forest for the second time that day, and heading towards the mysterious Cair Paravel.

...

Helen was quite certain that Narnia, despite its oddities and fantastical nature, was the most beautiful land she had ever seen. Of course, she would have preferred to see it's beauty under better circumstances, where she knew where she was and how she had come to be there, and preferably with a lot less walking involved and in better walking clothes than her house dress and pumps that, while sensible in England, made for some terrible conditions while tracking through the wilderness. Still, it was a wonderful land nonetheless.

It seemed to be almost untouched by humanity, and not simply because she had seen no other human beings since they had found themselves there. Unlike England, or even other places throughout Europe that she had visited as a child, nature still ran untouched in Narnia. There were no paved roads or worn pathways cutting through the trees, no noisy city streets full of people yelling, and no loud sounds of cars and planes and other machinery at work. The air was clean and clear, none of the smog she'd come to expect from living in London, and she found herself distracted simply from breathing in and out the clear country air. It made her feel rejuvenated, as if she was years younger, and put a spring in her step.

They walked with the beavers for the rest of the day through woods, glens, and meadows, chatting softly with one another about mindless things such as Mrs. Beaver's love of cooking (she promised Helen she would teach her the recipe for those delicious scones they had shared back at the Beaver's dam) as well as Mr. Beaver's love of fishing (something that George was quite passionate about, but that bored Helen and Mrs. Beaver to tears). George attempted to speak about the war a few times, and Helen herself attempted to discuss the part-time work she had taken up in the factory since the war had started, but the Beaver's seemed very confused when it came to machinery, leading them both to realize Narnia must be further behind England in modern advancements. She supposed it must be a very remote and isolated country to be so unaware of the realities of the world around them, which would explain why she had never heard of it or its strange inhabitants. But she still wondered how such a strange place could stay completely hidden from the public for so long.

At a few points during their walk, they were interrupted by a few different types of animals who gave her quite a fright when they spoke aloud without warning and offered the group smiles and greetings of hello as they passed by. And once, she could swear she saw a few wild looking women peaking their heads out from behind the trees, but every time she looked back they were gone, leaving her to assume she had simply imagined it. However, other than these few remarkable situations, the day passed without any major incidents.

When the summer sun had almost disappeared behind the tops of the trees, they arrived at a small home belonging to a pair of talking badgers that were apparently good friends with the Beavers. The Badgers welcomed them into their home, which was really a den dug into the ground, warmly and fed them a delicious stew full of meat and vegetables. After they'd all eaten heartily and the dishes had been cleared, the kindly Badgers laid out pallets on the floor for their guests to stay the night. She and George thanked them profusely for their hospitality and fell asleep almost instantly once they laid down, both exhausted from the constant walking and the shock of all of the new things they had experienced that day.

In the morning, she, along with all of the other occupants in the den (save Mrs. Badger who, according to Mr. Badger, was a late riser) rose at dawn. After a quick breakfast, they were on their way once more. Apparently, according to the Beavers, it would take most if not all of the day to reach their final destination on the coast of the eastern sea.

Still bewildered by all they were experiencing, and nervous about what was to come, Helen and George found themselves much quieter during this stretch of the trip, and they simply listened and nodded as the Beavers chatted on about the areas of the forest they were walking through, and where they were headed, and what sort of creatures lived where.

After walking for the rest of the day, and stopping for a brief lunch of sandwiches in a charming glen, the trees began to finally thin and grow sparse before giving way to rolling fields. Beyond that, the Pevensies could see the rolling waves of the sea and a beautiful castle on a hill, glistening in the sunlight.

Helen came to a stop and let out a gasp. A quick look to her husband showed that he too was awed by the sight before them.

"It's lovely, isn't it?" Mrs. Beaver said kindly.

"That's the castle?" George asked, incredulously.

"Yes, that's Cair Paravel." Answered Mr. Beaver, sounding proud. "The home of our gracious Kings and Queens."

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." Helen whispered, smiling softly.

"Well, no time to waste! We're almost there now, humans." Mr. Beaver replied jollily, leading them all forward. The Pevensies followed behind him closely, their eyes transfixed on the beautiful sight in the distance.

...

"Come on, Ed! You can do better than that!" Peter Pevensie teased his younger brother lightheartedly, shooting a smirk towards Edmund as he swung at him fiercely with his practice sword.

Edmund didn't answer his brother's taunts with words, but rather smirked in return and swung suddenly at his brother in retaliation, catching him off guard and causing him to let out a small yelp, which in turn caused Edmund to laugh.

Peter grew more serious, determined to be the victor in their practice session, and within a few moments, both boys were so involved with their swordsmanship that all thoughts of taunts were forgotten for pure focus and strategy. Edmund found himself with a bit of an upper hand quickly, being naturally more skilled at swordplay (one of the few things he had ever been better at than Peter, in fact), and he focused on the task of disarming his brother as swiftly as possible.

He lifted his sword, leaned forward to lunge, and then-

"Sires!" A high pitched voice startled them both out of their concentration and caused them to drop their blunt practice swords on the ground with a crash.

"Leverett!" Edmund could hear General Oreius yell sternly from behind him. "How many times have you been instructed by myself and others that their Majesties are not to be interrupted in the middle of a duel?"

"Oh, well, quite a few times, General." Leverett answered, and being the timid rabbit he was, he began pulling at his ears as he often did when he was nervous. "But, it's very important this time! I promise!"

"The importance of your message will not matter if their majesties are injured by their own weapons. Imagine what would have happened had those been sharpened swords they had dropped." Orieus admonished, causing Leverett to gulp nervously and stutter a bit under the harsh glare he was being given.

"It's alright, General." Peter interrupted with a smile. "I'm sure he'll be more careful next time, won't you, Leverett."

The rabbit nodded rapidly and fiercely. Orieus simply grunted in return.

"Well, what did you need then?" Edmund asked, causing the rabbit to forget his previous nerves completely and begin excitedly bouncing in place.

"Oh, your majesties, it's the most interesting thing!" He babbled happily. "Some robins have been flying in, and they've seen the beavers, that is to say, Mr. and Mrs. Beaver, on their way to Cair Paravel. They should be arriving in only a few moments! And they have a son of Adam and a daughter of Eve with them!"

"Archenlanders or Calormens perhaps?" Peter asked. "I didn't think we had any new envoys or visitors coming until next month at least?" Both Edmund and Peter turned a curious gaze toward Orieus, looking for confirmation.

"There are indeed no meetings scheduled until then, my kings." Orieus confirmed, looking slightly puzzled.

"Do you think it's someone in trouble?" Edmund offered.

"Could be." Peter answered. "We'd best hurry back to the Cair and find out. Leverett, can you hurry back and tell Queen Susan and Queen Lucy to get ready for our visitors as well?"

"Of course, Sire!" The rabbit answered, and he was gone with a few hops.

"Well, Ed. Looks like I'll have to beat you soundly later."

"Sure, Pete." Edmund laughed. "But there's no way you would have won. I was about to beat you fair and square!"

"In your dreams, brother!" Peter answered.

Both boys smiled at each other as they handed their swords to a faun attendant who was standing nearby. Then, together, they raced each other back to the castle.

...

Edmund Pevensie was convinced that there was no place more wonderful than Narnia, and the feeling had only grown more and more every day since he had arrived through that mysterious wardrobe three years ago. He had made so many friends here, changed remarkedly for the better, discovered so many magical things, and experienced things he could have only dreamed of back in England. He was so grateful to Aslan for bringing them all here, and he often reminded himself how lucky he was to be given this spectacular opportunity for a second chance. He'd never been as happy as he was here, right now, ruling side by side with his siblings, living in the most beautiful castle, having so many wonderful loving subjects and friends, who right now were all waving and smiling at he and Peter as they passed them by.

Still, despite the happiness he had gained in Narnia, he couldn't help but feel like something was missing.

Edmund had always been the closest to their Father, back in England. He'd loved him dearly, and he'd been the most heartbroken out of all of his family when he'd headed off to fight in the war. Although Edmund couldn't quite remember as clearly as he once had what the war had been about, he did remember clearly the feeling of dread when his father had walked out their door, and his fear that he'd never see him ever again. That wish for his father to return had never left him, even with all of the distractions that ruling over Narnia provided. He couldn't help but wish that their father was here too, to see Narnia with them.

He missed their mother too. Although he had been cold and distant to her the last time he'd seen her at the train station, he still loved her dearly as well. It felt like years ages ago since he'd seen her, but the cold feeling of shame in his stomach when he thought of how he had acted towards her was still fresh. He wondered if he'd ever see her again so that he could apologize.

Thinking on how long they had been away from England was a curious thing to Edmund. He supposed logically he should feel more concerned about the fact that he hadn't seen his parents, or England, for so long. But, for some reason, he strangely felt alright with that, at peace almost. He never truly worried about the fact that they had been away for so long, although he did sometimes miss the place he once called home. It was almost as if his mind and emotions felt distant from everything, as if ages had passed since they arrived in Narnia and not simply three years. He suspected that Aslan had something to do about that, but as he hadn't seen him since the coronation, he couldn't be sure.

He was pulled out of his thinking as he and Peter finally reached the steps to the castle, and were greeted by an excited Lucy who ran wildly down the steps towards them.

"Edmund, Peter!" She cried, as she gave them both a frantic hug and spun them around a bit. Her smile and her joy were contagious as always, and Edmund found himself smiling back at her as her good mood rubbed off onto him.

"Hello, Lu!" Peter answered, ruffling her hair affectionately and giving her forehead a quick peck. "Are we ready to greet our visitors?"

"Yes! Susan is waiting in the throne room. Though she told me to tell you both to change quickly first out of your training clothes, and that you shouldn't greet any potential visitors while sweaty." She grew serious, imitating their practical sister as she repeated Susan's message, and Peter and Edmund shared a small laugh.

"It's all so mysterious, isn't it?" Lucy added. "I wonder who these mysterious people are and what they want?"

"Well, the sooner we change and you get to the throne room, the sooner we'll find out." Edmund said as he steered his younger sister toward the direction of the throne room. "Tell Susan we'll be down in a few moments, and we'll meet you there."

Lucy smiled and waved as they parted ways and she went skipping down the hallway.

Once both young kings had changed into more formal clothing, they rushed to the throne room to find Susan already sitting on her throne and chatting with Lucy. The boys quickly joined them, sitting on their respective thrones as well.

"Peter, Edmund. How was practice with Orieus?" Susan asked curiously.

"Fine, until Leverett interrupted and made us drop our practice swords." Edmund responded with a chuckle.

"He is an excitable rabbit." Lucy said with a smile.

"Very, very excitable." Peter replied in a fond but exasperated tone.

"Your Majesties!" The voice of one of their attendants, a young fox named Rennard, entering the room interrupted them suddenly. "You have visitors." He bowed and stepped to the side to allow two familiar creatures into the room.

"Mr. and Mrs. Beaver!" Lucy cried out happily, standing to her feet and running towards them to give them both warm hugs.

"Hello, my dears." Mrs. Beaver said happily. "I'm so sorry we weren't able to visit you sooner, but we've just been so busy this summer and we haven't found the time to take the trip."

"It's perfectly alright, Mrs. Beaver." Susan responded kindly. "We're just glad to see you whenever you can find the time to visit us. We've heard that you both have been traveling with someone? Are they here as well?"

"Oh, yes, they're right outside dears." Mrs. Beaver said. "We were bringing them here, to see you. It's why we came."

"They seem to be a bit confused about where they are." Mr. Beaver added. "We thought you might be able to help them."

"Well, I'm not sure how much help we'll be, but we're certainly willing to see them." Peter responded honestly. "Send them in, and we'll see what we can do."

At that, Lucy returned to her seat, and Rennard, who had been standing patiently to the side, exited the room and returned in a moment with two surprisingly familiar figures.

For a few seconds, all four of the Pevensie children stood still in shock, unbelieving of the sight in front of them. It was Lucy who broke the silence first.

"Mum? Dad?" She asked, almost breathlessly. Edmund could see her eyes filling with tears, and he watched, stunned, as she stood to her feet and ran towards the two people who were unquestionably their parents. They were both dressed in English clothing, and Edmund was shocked at how unfamiliar it seemed to see his father in his simple military uniform and his mother in her sensible dress.

"Lucy? My little Lucy!" He heard the familiar sound of his father's voice as he bent down to embrace Lucy tightly in his arms. The sound spurred him, and the rest of his siblings, to stand to their own feet and rush towards their parents as well.

"All of you, how are you here? Oh, I'm so glad to see you! You've all grown so much!" Their mother's voice was filled with tears as she drew them all into a large hug and kissed them tenderly on their foreheads.

There were shouts of disbelief that they were seeing each other, and exclamations of joy at being reunited, and there were more than a few tears shed by all as they held one another tightly, reunited for the first time in so long.

After a few moments of joyous exclamations, tears, and hugs, there was an embarrassed cough from the corner, and the group turned to see Rennard, who had been witnessing the encounter with bewilderment, clearing his throat to get their attention.

"Your Majesties? Who are these humans?" He asked timidly.

"You all know each other?" Mr. Beaver asked curiously.

"Oh yes! They're our parents!" Lucy cried out excitedly, causing the fox and the beavers to let out small gasps and exclamations of delight.

"Your Majesties?" Edmund heard their father say softly, his voice filled with confusion. He looked them over, seemingly just now noticing their fancy clothing and the crowns that sat on their heads. "What on earth is going on here?" He said, bemusedly.

"You all look so much older, and your clothes-" Their mother added, tugging at Lucy's gown lightly, and smoothing back a bit of hair from Peter's forehead near his crown. She sounded just as confused as their father, if not more so. "How on earth did you all come to be here as well? You were meant to be safe in the country!"

Peter let out a loud laugh. "We have so much to tell you both!" He responded earnestly.

Edmund tightened his grip slightly around his father subconsciously as he nervously thought about what telling their entire tale would entail. His father looked down at him and tightened his own arms in response.

"Well, then I suggest you start talking, young man." His father replied to Peter in a voice that was partly teasing, partly shocked. "Your mother and I are beyond confused, to say the least."

Lucy giggled and pulled them all to their feet. "We can tell you over dinner!" She announced happily, clapping her hands together in delight. "And Mr. and Mrs. Beaver, you simply must stay and eat with us! And we can invite Orieus and Mr. Tumnus as well! It will be almost like a party!"

"Yes, please stay!" Susan added, smiling brightly. "We'd love to have you, and to hear how you came to meet our parents in the first place."

As the Beavers accepted their dinner invitation happily, and Lucy politely asked Rennard who was still standing by to fetch Mr. Tumnus and Orieus, Edmund turned his gaze to study his parents. Their confusion was clear on their faces as they looked around the room, at the talking animals, the magnificent decorations adorning the large throne room, at the clothes he and his siblings were wearing. Peter was right. They really did have quite a long story to share with each other.

Despite his nerves at what that story would include, and how his parents might react to all that had happened to them in Narnia so far, he was beyond happy that they were here. He thanked Aslan silently for granting one of his deepest wishes and smiled as he hugged his Father tighter.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: Sorry it's been so long since I updated last. My laptop completely died and I was swamped with university work. Bad combination overall. But I have a new laptop finally, so I'm trying to update now when I can. I'm still super busy, so no guarantees it will be timely updates, but I haven't abandoned this story. Thank you for all of the new favorites to this story and for being patient with me! I appreciate it.

...

Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie were both stunned by the gorgeous banquet hall they were led into by their children. They stood shocked by the large formal table and looked around in awe at the elegance surrounding them. The table was set with gilded tableware and decorated with bouquets of fresh wildflowers. From up above, the evening sun shone through the regular and stained glass windows alike, casting a warm golden glow on the formal setting and softening everything in its light. Even the chairs surrounding the table were exquisite, draped in red velvet with delicately carved details in the dark wood.

As they approached the table, Peter surprised them by taking the seat of honor at the head of the table, with the rest of the children following his lead without thought and settling down next to him accordingly. They did the same, sitting down next to their children with a look of bewilderment shared between them.

The surprises only continued as a large group of forests animals entered the room, each one carrying a tray with some sort of delicious food on top. It was quite a sight to see the little animals, such as rabbits and foxes and badgers, all wearing perfectly sized tunics of embroidered silk and standing on their hind legs, carrying their loads comfortably. It almost brought to mind an image of trained circus animals, if not for the fact that these animals seemed to have a special air about them. It was almost as if one could sense they were much more than dumb beasts just by looking at them.

Each animal passed by with their delicious smelling dishes, and Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie watched as the creatures treated their children with a fond sort of respect. But what impressed them the most was that their children always responded kindly and personably to each animal that waited on them, knowing each of the creatures by name and thanking them profusely for doing their jobs.

Once the table had been set, the feasting began. The Pevensies tucked into their food, overwhelmed by the wonderful tastes. The food was nothing short of a dream; delicious, flavorful, and plenty. All of the Pevensies happily ate their fill of the main course, moved on to an equally pleasing dessert, and finished with a steaming cup of hot chocolate for each.

Once they had all had their fill, Peter turned to address the group, looking more grown up than his parents had ever seen him, and yet still very much their little boy.

"Now, you must tell us Father, Mother; how did you come to be in Narnia? It wasn't through a wardrobe by any chance, was it?"

"A wardrobe?" Mr. Pevensie replied. "I believe Mr. Beaver here asked us the same thing, but I'm not sure what a wardrobe would have to do with anything. I was in a small forest, in France, near where my regiment was camped."

"I was in a book store in Finchley." Mrs. Pevensie added. "I have no idea how I came to be here. Is Narnia a part of France?"

"How curious!" Cried Susan. "There must be many more ways to enter Narnia from our world that we didn't know about!"

"Our world?" Mr. Pevensie echoed in confusion. "Susan, what on earth do you mean? And really, what is this about a wardrobe?"

Then, as if a flood gate had been opened, the story began. Through the excited words of their children, and the interjections to fill in some of the details from the beavers, they learned of how their children had discovered a land inside a wardrobe, inside a spare room in what was supposed to be a safe house in the country. They learned of how Lucy met Mr. Tumnus, who told her about the White Witch, and eternal winter. They learned, to their astonishment, that there was a prophecy about their children, one that made them kings and queens of this strange land.

Both fought to keep their faces impassive as their children spoke, concealing their worry within, but they couldn't help but notice that their children seemed to be hiding something and that Edmund seemed suspiciously silent in sharing about this extraordinary tale.

And it was a strange tale. One that, were they not face to face with the evidence of it, they would have never believed to be true.

"This is all very interesting, my dears." Mrs. Pevensie interrupted. "But it's certainly no longer winter now? What happened to this witch? Is she still a danger to you all?"

Their children all shared a look, with special attention being given towards Edmund specifically, and just as Peter was about to resume his tale Edmund spoke up suddenly.

"The witch is dead. I shattered her wand, and Aslan killed her. It was the least I could do." He mumbled the last bit so quietly that they barely heard him.

"The least you could do?" Mrs. Pevensie pressed gently.

And then, in a quiet whisper, the rest of the story was finally told. Edmund admitted his betrayal of his sibling and briefly told of his experience as the white witch's captive and his rescue and forgiveness by Aslan. They learned of the battle, of Aslan's sacrifice, the coronation, and Aslan's departure. And most of all, they learned from what Edmund didn't say, and they saw how close to tears their youngest boy was, and what it cost him to share his story with them honestly. They saw how the rest of their children looked on with worried eyes at their brother, full of love and concern for his well being.

"Oh, Edmund." Mrs. Pevensie exclaimed once he had finished, her voice sorrowful and sad. She rose to her feet and walked around the table to where her son sat and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Mr. Pevensie rose as well, and as he approached his wife and son, he heard Helen whisper soft and brokenly.

"You were supposed to be safe. All of you. I sent you to the country to protect you from the war, but I simply sent you into another one." There were tears in her eyes as she stoked Edmund's cheek tenderly. Mr. Pevensie placed a calming hand on his wife's shoulder and shared a look with her that said they would talk later. For now, their son needed their reassurance.

"Are you upset with me?" Edmund asked quietly, looking between them.

"Oh, Edmund!" Lucy cried out, jumping up to engulf her brother in a tight hug. "Aslan said it was all in the past, and it is! You shouldn't feel bad about it anymore!" Quick and emphatic nods from Susan and Peter accompanied her statement, as they joined the rest of their family to stand around their brother.

"It would seem that neither your siblings or these creatures still hold you at fault, so neither will we, son." Mr. Pevensie said softly. "Although, I would hope that we could talk about it more. Later. In private." His voice was firm but kind, and they watched as Edmund's shoulders relaxed in relief. Edmund looked up with grateful eyes at his father.

"I'm just glad you're safe now. That all of you are safe." Mrs. Pevensie added.

"Now no more of this crying stuff, Ed." Peter said teasingly, reaching over to ruffle Edmund's hair affectionately.

Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie froze, watching carefully for Edmund's reaction. But, instead of scowling and snapping as he once would have, he surprised them both by simply letting out a small laugh and playfully shoving his brother's hand away.

"I know your mother and I still have so many questions for you all, but right now, it's late." Mr. Pevensie added.

"Right." Susan said, rising to her feet with a firm, motherly look on her face. "I'll see to it that rooms are prepared in the royal wing. They won't be up to standards of course, and we'll have to have them fixed up proper tomorrow, but for now-"

"They'll be fine, Su." Peter cut her off with a fond roll of his eyes.

"Everything _is_ better in Narnia, even the dusty guest bedrooms." Lucy added with a smile

Edmund and Peter laughed lightly in response, and Susan gave a good-natured shrug.

"C'mon!" Lucy exclaimed loudly and suddenly, excitedly grabbing both of her parents hands and dragging them out of the dining room and into the hallway. "I'll show you to your rooms!"

...

Settled into a lavish bedroom, and clothed in the most beautiful, yet comfortable, nightclothes either had ever worn, the emotions of the Pevensie parents were jumbled and their thoughts wouldn't stop racing. Yet both sat side by side, unable to say a word. The silence lasted for quite a few minutes, as both attempted to come to terms with everything they had learned that night.

"They were in a war, George." Helen exclaimed suddenly, breaking the quiet atmosphere. "A war! And we had no idea."

"I know." Mr. Pevensie replied. "It's beautiful here, it truly is, but it's not safe. These creatures, kind though they may be, seem to think our children are adults. And they made them their monarchs. Children, as their monarchs! Clearly, they don't know enough about politics." He shook his head wryly.

"I agree with you, of course. I'm frustrated that this could have happened. Not at the animals or the children mind you. It's not truly their faults. But the fact that they've been through so much here, while we had no idea. And yet..." Helen's voice trailed off.

"And yet what?"

"They do seem so much older, don't they?" She mused. "They act so very different from how they did when they left. I suppose it's more apparent to me, you've been at war for so long already, you wouldn't know exactly how much they'd grown. But before they left for the countryside, they were different. Peter and Susan were trying too hard to be adults, to take on responsibilities. I often felt as if I was pushing them too hard, making them do too much for their ages. But now those responsibilities seems almost natural to them. And Lucy was just a child when I sent her away, and she seems so much more mature as well. She's still our little Lucy, but she seems so much wiser than a child her age should be. And Edmund! He was so moody, so prone to mourning you, George. And he was so angry with his siblings. I could barely get him to smile at all. To see them all getting along now. It's astonishing."

"Well, be that as it may, they are still children. English children, who should be back home in England. Although, I loathe to take them back with the bombings."

"Should we take them back?" Mrs. Pevensie added, shocking her husband. "I mean, there's not much for us there, in England, is there? There is Harold and Alberta, but heaven knows they won't miss us if we leave. And of course there is your great aunt Sybil, but she hasn't contacted us in years. And there are no real jobs for either of us to go back to, what with the war going on. Couldn't we just stay here? That witch is gone, and there's no war happening here. We'd be safe, and so would the children."

She turned then, to look him in the eye. "You would be safe, George. You wouldn't have to fight in that wretched war anymore. You would be home, with us, where we need you."

"Helen, we can't stay here." He answered with a sigh.

"Why not?" She demanded, touching his upper arms lightly and staring at him pleadingly. "The children are happier here, I can see it in their eyes. And you said it yourself, it's beautiful here, and those animals are all kind. Why couldn't we stay?"

"Because we don't belong here." He replied, shaking her hands lightly off and grasping them in his own. "We belong in England, not with a bunch of talking animals in a fantasy world."

"You can't tell me you don't enjoy it here. I know you, George. Your eyes lit up like a child on Christmas when we walked up to this castle." She teased, lightening the mood and brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead.

"Yes, well..."

"Let's just try it. Stay here for a bit, talk to the children some more, and then make a decision. Can't we at least do that?"

"I think that sounds reasonable." He admitted, smiling softly at her. "It certainly can't do any harm to stay here, together, for a few days. I have missed you, and the children, after all."

"Thank you. I'm not quite ready to send you off into danger again. A few days together again will be wonderful."

They crawled under the covers then, blew out the candle on the nightstand, and settled into each other's arms. Things were quiet for a moment. But just before they nodded off, Helen softly whispered aloud to no one in particular.

"That Aslan, the great lion. He does sound familiar, doesn't he?"


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Another short chapter! I'm just so busy now, that I can only get out short chapters here and there, but I don't want to abandon this story or any of my stories. So I hope short chapters are all right with you all. It may make the story move a bit slower, but at least it will keep it going!

...

Helen Pevensie woke up at the break of dawn, the warm rays of the morning sunlight shining on her face. George was still fast asleep beside her, and he looked so peaceful lying there that she couldn't find it in herself to wake him.

So, instead, she slipped the pair of slippers she had been given the night before onto her feet and grabbed the nearby dressing gown, and quietly tiptoed outside of the guest chambers.

As she shut the door behind her, she looked curiously up and down the long hallway before her. It stretched on for such a long time, and she had been much too preoccupied the night before to pay attention to where she was going. That being said, she had no idea where she was in the castle, nor where the common rooms might be, or where her children were, or anything else for that matter.

Without anything better to do, and knowing she'd never fall asleep again now, she simply began walking.

She wandered through beautiful hallway after beautiful hallway, marveling at the elaborate tapestries, columns, and stained glass pieces all around her. Everything was so elaborately decorated but felt warm and comforting at the same time. It filled her with a sense of peace she hadn't experienced in a long time.

The fact that all was quiet in the castle contributed to the peace as well. There were no people, or animals, about, so she wandered in silence for quite some time.

However, as beautiful, as the endless hallways were, Helen was thoroughly lost. After she had wandered for what seemed like ages and was beginning to despair that she'd never find any signs of life, she heard a faint sound. It almost sounded like pots and pans rattling about. She turned and followed the noise, and soon found herself in what seemed to be the palace kitchens.

The kitchens were large and just as elaborate as the rest of the castle, and inside the doorway different animals and creatures of all types were rushing about, smiling and laughing with one another as they baked and cooked and bustled about.

One of the animals, a porcupine wearing a quaint little apron, was busy mixing things in a bowl when she suddenly turned and noticed Helen standing in the doorway.

"Oh my! I didn't notice you there! You gave me quite a fright!" The creature said in a high-pitched but pleasant voice, placing a hand on its heart and letting out a little nervous laugh.

"Can we help you, my lady?" Another creature, a tabby cat, asked with a purr in her voice.

"Well, I don't suppose you have any tea?" She asked politely. "And there's no need for any of those formalities. I'm just Helen. Helen Pevensie."

"Oh, we know who you are ma'am!" A badger, who was working in the corner, spoke up in a gruff but kind voice. "You're the mother of our kings and queens! So glad to meet you in person." The badger approached Helen and held out its paw for a firm handshake.

"And we certainly do have tea." The porcupine answered, patting Helen softly on the arm. "And just as soon as I figure out what's wrong with my dough again this morning, I'll be happy to get you a cup."

"Your dough?" Helen asked curiously. "Might I take a look?" She'd always prided herself on her cooking, and could never resist anything where baking was involved.

"Well, you're welcome to try. I'm Nellie, by the way."

"Pleasure to meet you." She smiled widely at the adorable creature, as she took the bowl from the porcupine's paws. "Ah, I see what's wrong here. You've simply added a bit too much flower. Easily fixed!" She immediately began bustling about with the ingredients on the counter, fixing the dough with practiced ease.

"Ah, you're too kind, Mrs. Helen. Too kind. These strange human foods are just so hard for me sometimes! Every time I think I understand it, it escapes me. I really should leave it to other creatures who eat these type of things, but I just love working here at Cair Paravel. Getting to see our kings and queens is special, you see. I couldn't imagine working anywhere else."

"That does sound like it would make it difficult. What do you eat then?" Helen asked curiously as she worked the dough.

"Oh, leaves, twigs, things like that." Nellie answered flippantly as if it were nothing at all to say something so strange. And Helen supposed that for a porcupine, it wasn't. "You human folk never appreciate a good leaf when you see it though. Always putting strange things on your leaves. But then, I suppose you think the same about me, so we're quite even!" She let out a little chuckle and stood on her tiptoes to try and see what Helen was doing.

"There," Helen said, sitting the mended dough down. "That should do the trick."

"If only I had your skills!" Nellie mused, reaching to begin shaping the dough for baking. "You're so quick at it too."

"Oh, it's nothing." Helen smiled kindly. "My specialties are puddings, but I'd like to think I'm able to handle myself with almost any dish."

"Puddings you say?" The tabby cat spoke up with a lilting purr to her voice, coming to stand by them. "I can never really get my puddings just right. Can you, Nellie?"

"Not quite," Nellie replied. "You have a few minutes more to bake some pudding?"

...

Susan was a predictable person. She rose every morning at the same time, just before dawn. Then, she bathed, dressed, and prepared herself for the day. Finally, before the day began, she always visited the kitchen for a quick cup of tea.

So, this morning, like all other mornings, she did just that. Dressed impeccably in her fine Narnian gown, she walked briskly towards the kitchen, humming softly to herself.

Just before she reached the kitchen doors, the silence of the early morning was broken by the sound of delighted laughter and chattering voices. Bewildered at the change in her regular morning routine, Susan paused, before stepping quietly into the kitchens.

To her surprise, she saw her mother surrounded by a handful of creatures who served as their kitchen staff, smiling and laughing with them like old friends. She stood, unnoticed in the doorway, and watched them with a fond smile on her face. The kindness of Narnia's creatures was one of her favorite things about the country, and it seemed her mother had discovered this as well.

Suddenly, her mother looked in her direction and noticed her arrival.

"Susan, darling! Good morning!" She rose with a smile still on her lips and walked towards Susan, placing a soft kiss on her cheek.

"Come for your morning cup of tea, your majesty?" The tabby, Mindy, asked, not waiting for an answer before placing a warm cup of tea in Susan's hands.

"Thank you, Mindy." She replied with a smile, taking a sip.

"Some things never change, I suppose!" Her mother laughed, smiling at her. Susan blushed and took another sip of her tea.

"It's almost time for breakfast, your majesty, Helen." Nellie spoke up. "You ought to head there."

"Shall we go then, mother?"

"Certainly darling. As long as you lead the way this time. I'm ashamed to admit I got horribly lost on the way to the kitchens."

"Ah, that's nothing. Our dear queen got lost quite a few times herself on first coming to Cair Paravel!" Mindy added with a smirk.

"Now don't mind them." Nellie laughed. "The castle's so big, I daresay we've all gotten lost from time to time. Now, run along you two, and prepare for breakfast. And it's been nice talking to you Helen. Do pop in anytime!"

"And bring that pudding recipe with you!" Mindy added.

"I certainly will, ladies." Her mother replied with a fond smile before they both left the kitchen and headed towards breakfast.


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's note: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story so far! I appreciate all the attention it has been getting._

 _Just a reminder to everyone that I do plan on continuing this story, so it will someday be finished: I promise! I have a rough outline for the whole story planned, and it's looking to be about 15 chapters in total, although that number may grow a bit as I go on. We will see! Regardless, I am invested in this story, even if I am slow to updating. I've been in a bit of a writing slump recently, so please stay patient with me, and I promise more chapters are coming._

 _I'm still not happy with the ending to this chapter, but at this point, I just wanted to get it out regardless._

 _Also, I had to look up what squirrels eat for this chapter. So that's a thing I didn't think I would be doing._

...

Breakfast at Cair Paravel was, much like dinner, a glorious affair. Although much more casual, it was still no less grand. Delicious dishes covered the table, filled with every sort of breakfast food imaginable. Surprisingly, most of it seemed to be standard English fare: toast and jam, eggs, and so on. But there were other dishes that were more Narnian fare as well. At least, that was what the children said when the Pevensie parents questioned some of the dishes, like rare steaks and some interesting types of weeds and grasses.

It wasn't just the delicious breakfast that made the atmosphere so wonderful, though. It was the morning sunlight shining softly through the stained glass, and sparkling against the elaborately decorated items in the room, creating a warm golden glow speckled with color.

The company also added to the magic, as many important creatures had joined the royal family for breakfast. Mr. and Mrs. Beaver were there, of course, but also many others. There was a jovial fox chatting with a leopard, a dryad laughing at a joke a badger was telling, and, most shockingly, a very serious looking centaur sitting right across from both Helen and George.

The centaur had been introduced as Oreius, and he was apparently the head general of the Narnian army, which the Pevensie parents had mixed feelings about, and an advisor and friend to their children. Helen, for her part, was upset at the reminder that her children had apparently fought in a war, but grateful that they had some sort of adult role model in this strange land. While George, although also reluctant to acknowledge the fact that his children had fought like adults, was a bit thrilled to know his children were studying the art of self-defense under a clearly capable individual. For all he was a parent, he was a soldier as well, and he had quickly pulled Oreius into a discussion of how he was training the children and what weapons they were learning to use.

At seeing George's interest, Oreius suggested they join them after breakfast on the training field to see for themselves what their children could do. George happily agreed. In Helen's opinion, he was way too excited about the prospect of using dangerous weapons.

After the food had been finished, the Pevensie family and an odd cast of magical creatures walked to the training field. It was a lovely summer morning, with a soft breeze blowing through the trees, making the walk peaceful. Once arriving, Helen was surprised to see that even the training grounds were green and lush, and just as lovely as everything else in this magical land.

Immediately upon arriving, the boys quickly ran to grab their swords, happily returning to show them off to their father as Oreius informed him of the fine make of their son's Narnian weapons. That was all well and good, until George decided to speak up.

"These are certainly fine swords!" He remarked as he studied the intricately designed patterns on Peter's sword. "I am impressed, I must say. Although, I do wonder how you'd all do with modern weapons." He mussed.

"Absolutely not." Helen spoke up quickly and firmly. "None of my children will be using a gun, ever. I may be too late to insist they not use swords, but a pistol is certainly where I draw the line."

"But, Helen-" George started to protest but stopped when he noticed her displeased glare. The children snickered quietly behind them.

"Yes, yes. I suppose you're right." He backtracked. "How about hand-to-hand combat then? Have you started learning that yet? Nothing more important than knowing how to defend yourself if you lose your weapon!"

"I think this is my excuse to leave before you get into another deep discussion on self-defense tactics." Helen said, walking up to her husband and placing a fond but exasperated kiss lightly on his cheek, causing him to grin slightly.

"We can go on a walk until they are done, mother." Susan said, helping her rise to her feet.

"Oh yes! We can show you around the gardens! They're so lovely this time of year!" Lucy said happily, grabbing onto Helen's hand.

"Have fun boys!" Helen said with a smile, and allowed the two girls to lead her away.

...

Helen was led by Susan and Lucy to the lovely gardens surrounding the castle, which were as vast and majestic as the castle itself. There were large gardens of familiar blooms, and some with odd plants that she could only assume were native only to Narnia. There were also groves of trees, including fruit trees that were beginning to produce every kind of fruit imaginable, from apples to oranges to pears.

Some parts of the garden were more overgrown, crawling with wildflowers and wild vines that chased their way to the sun by crawling up various old statues and trellises. But other parts of the garden were much more refined. The ladies in the local gardening club in Finchley would have been quite jealous of their beautifully manicured paths and carefully tended to rose bushes.

Susan and Lucy both were very pleased to show her around. Surprisingly, each section of the garden had a history, with many parts of the garden being planted by previous Narnian rulers from ages past. The girls happily pointed out their favorite spots, such as a lovely section filled with willow trees and a crystal clear pond which Susan said had been designed by a woman named Queen Swanwhite. They were also proud to point out some of the changes they themselves had made to the gardens since coming here. Susan was especially excited to show here where she had planted Helen's favorite flowers, bluebells, in a section of the garden that would in time come to represent their own rule. Helen wasn't ashamed to admit that she was touched enough to tear up a bit at the thought.

Towards the end of their stroll, they entered a grove of trees near the edge of the garden and came across a small group of squirrels having what appeared to be the squirrel equivalent to teatime. They were chattering excitedly amongst themselves, and sitting on small squirrel-sized wooden chairs in front of a small table. On the table was laid out a feast of appropriately squirrel approved foods, with large bowls overflowing with various types of nuts, a plate full of different types of berries, and even a selection of different types of mushrooms.

As the group approached the table, Lucy let out a happy greeting.

"Hello, friends! What a lovely day for a picnic!" She said with a smile and a wave towards the group, who were now looking towards them.

"Queen Lucy and Queen Susan!" One red squirrel exclaimed excitedly in its high pitched voice. "It is an honor to have you here at our gathering!"

"Most certainly, most certainly!" A grey squirrel chirped happily. "Won't you join us for a bit?"

"Oh please do!" A smaller squirrel added. "It would be our pleasure!"

"Oh, can we, mother?" Lucy asked, turning toward Helen with pleading eyes.

"As long as we're not imposing," Helen said softly, only to be met by many chattering voices insuring her they were not imposing and were indeed welcome to join them for a bite to eat.

So Susan, Lucy, and Helen all sat down on the grass beside the table and accepted the squirrel's gifts of berries and nuts with a smile and their thanks. It wasn't long before Lucy was chatting away happily with the group about the state of this year's nut harvests. Before long, they had all but forgotten she and Susan.

"Are squirrels always this excitable?" Helen whispered good-naturedly to Susan as she watched her daughter and the little creatures chat.

"Yes, every one that I've met anyways." Susan replied with a small smile and a laugh.

"They're quite charming fellows, aren't they." Helen mused. "I think I would have liked our squirrels back in England much better if they were as agreeable as these!"

She smiled and turned to Susan, expecting a response, but was instead shocked to see her daughter looking pensive.

"Susan darling, are you feeling well?" She asked with concern, brushing her daughter's hair out of her face tenderly.

"I'm fine, mother." Susan replied softly. "It's just, I've missed you. But I hadn't thought until now about England or returning home. But now that you're here, I suppose we'll have to come back with you." She sighed. "It's the sensible thing to do, I know, but I worry about our subjects. What will they do without their rulers? And who will look after them, and make sure all the creatures have what they need, and that the borders are secure from the giants, and-" She trailed off into silence, looking infinitely older and sadder than Helen had ever seen her.

"You love it here, don't you?" Helen asked. "I mean, it's clear to see why you would. I've only just arrived, and already I can see how wonderful it is."

"Then you understand?" Susan pleaded. "You understand why we have- or rather I mean want to stay?"

"I do. Believe me, I do. But England is our home."

"But it's so much better here than England!" Susan exclaimed passionately, raising her voice a bit, and causing a few of the squirrels to glance their way before returning to their conversation once more. "I'm sorry, mother. I didn't mean to shout."

"It's alright." Helen sighed, reaching to pull her daughter close to rest against her side. "If we're being truthful, Susan, I agree with you. Narnia is certainly much better than England is at the moment, and if it were up to me, I would stay here. It would keep you all safe, well maybe not safe, but certainly safer than being in the middle of the war. And it is lovely here, and I feel more at peace here than I have in a long time. It's not me that you have to convince though, it's your father."

"Father?"

She paused for a moment, wondering how much to reveal to her daughter. Before this, before Narnia, Susan had been a little girl, but now she could already see signs of wisdom and maturity in her daughter that she never had before.

"Yes, he's convinced England is somehow safer, and that we have to return. I believe it's equal parts patriotic duty he feels as a soldier, and also his need for familiarity. And truth be told Susan, I've never really enjoyed living in Finchley. I've always wanted for your father to move our family to a country home. I grew up in the country, you know, and I wanted the same for you. While Narnia is certainly different from the English countryside, it is close enough for my likings, and free of bombings. I think it would be good to stay here. At least until the war is over, anyway."

"Really?" Susan said, sitting up and looking at her intently. "You want to stay?"

"I can't really say why, but yes, I do."

Susan's face lit up with hope.

"But there's one thing I don't understand. Why did you all stay in the first place? Why didn't you try to come home, to come back to us? Or at least write us a letter, telling us where you were?"

"I- I don't know." Susan said, her brow scrunching up in confusion. "Aslan said this was our home, that we would be crowned, that we were needed. And it just felt right to stay. I hadn't questioned it until now. Although I did miss you and father something awful sometimes, I never really thought about returning."

"There is certainly a lot of faith placed in this Aslan of yours, isn't there." Helen mused. "It's almost as if he's- well I suppose it doesn't matter really. What has happened has happened the way it has for a reason, I'm sure. And whether we stay here or not, it will all work out."

At that moment, there was a lull in the conversation around the table, and Helen heard Lucy exclaim something about heading back to the castle.

"Well, you heard your sister, I believe it is time to go." Helen said, standing to her feet and reaching to help Susan up as well.

"I hadn't realized it had gotten so late." She said, looking up to see that the sun was now firmly in the middle of the sky. "We should return to the training grounds."

"Come on!" Lucy's giggling voice reached them, and they looked up to see she had already run to the edge of the trees. "We don't want to be late!" She said, before turning and breaking out into a run.

"Lucy darling! Wait up please!" Helen exclaimed with a laugh, breaking out into a jog herself, with Susan right behind. The group of squirrels chattered happy goodbyes at them as they left, laughing all the way back.

...

"How were the training grounds, my dear?" George asked as the girls returned to the training grounds.

"Lovely, certainly worthy of a prize for best gardens. And such lovely roses too!"

"I'll have to take a stroll with you sometime, and you can show me the best parts." George replied with a playful laugh, gaining a smile from his wife.

"And how was training?" She asked.

George's face lit up. "Oh, absolutely brilliant! Our sons are naturals with a sword! If only we had gotten them into fencing instead of cricket back home. But I'm still much better at hand to hand combat than they are, they've quite a ways to go you see-" George stopped his explanation when he realized Oreius had started laughing, or rather, what passes for laughing with centaurs. It was more of a low chuckle really. Helen's eyebrow furrowed questioningly.

"Oh please don't tell her, father." Peter pleaded, surprisingly with a bit of a whine to his voice. "Can't we just show her our swordwork instead, forget about the hand-to-hand stuff?"

"Forget the hand-to-hand stuff?" George scoffed with a playful smile. "Why, I think not." The boys groaned.

"Your husband is quite skilled in the art, my lady." Oreius spoke up. "He beat both of our young kings soundly. A good lesson in humility was learned by all today."

Helen let out a small laugh and gave her boys a sympathetic smile. "Well, humility may have been learned by some, but I dare say George could stand to be knocked down a peg."

"Oh don't worry, we beat him soundly after that when he tried using a sword." Edmund replied with a smirk.

Helen laughed again, especially when George mumbled about how he would have won if they were demonstrating guns instead.

"Can we show you a bit of what we know, mother?" Peter asked hopefully. "We'll be careful."

"Yes, let's!" Lucy added. "I want to show you how well I can aim. Although I'm not quite as good as Susan just yet."

"I think you do fine, Lucy." Susan smiled encouragingly.

"Well, I suppose a small demonstration can't hurt." Helen mused, and the children all smiled happily.

Susan quickly led both Helen and George to a blanket that had been laid out on the side of the field for them to rest on while the children displayed their skills, and they both settled down to watch.

Susan went first, firing her arrows swiftly at a target with deadly accuracy. Although Helen wasn't a weapons expert by any means, even she knew to be impressed at the constant way her daughter hit the target's center. Both she and George clapped happily when their daughter finished and were glad to see their daughter's proud smile as she exited the training field and joined them on their blanket.

Lucy went next, and Helen almost fainted when her little daughter happily informed her she would be throwing daggers, and held up the deadly sharp, and rather large, weapons. But she kept calm, gave her a nervous smile, and forced herself to stay still as Lucy threw her weapons at the target. Admittedly, it was impressive, but her applause was a bit more muted than her husband's when her youngest daughter finished, and she was relieved when she too had joined them on the blanket.

The most impressive display of them all, and the most nerve-wracking was when Peter and Edmund faced off with swords. Both boys were clearly as talented, if not more, than her husband had claimed, and Helen felt herself leaning forward in suspense as they circled each other again and again. They seemed to find fun in the display as well, both smiling and laughing while Oreius threw pointers at them.

George was beyond excited and cheered wildly when Peter finally managed to disarm Edmund, although not without great effort. And both boys, even Edmund as the losing party, were smiling widely.

"What did I tell you, Helen?" He said, happily clapping both boys on their shoulders as they came to join the little group on the blanket, and smiling at the girls. "They're all naturals!" Helen smiled a small but honest smile, nodding her head at his words.

"And Oreius here, he's a fantastic teacher. the old British army could learn a thing or two from him, I dare say!" George added excitedly, trailing off and talking about things that, frankly, went right over Helen's head. As she started to tune out his happy chatter, she began to think.

She hadn't seen her husband this happy in a long time, and she was glad to see his genuine smile come so easily to him. It seemed that Narnia was doing them both good, with its kind creatures and clean air. And from the way her husband was happily chatting with Oreius, maybe he was becoming more attached to this place than she thought. Maybe Susan wouldn't need to convince him after all.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's note: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and kept with this story. Again, it is not abandoned. But my life has been a bit crazy. I graduated from University, got a new full-time job, and I am preparing to possibly move out of my country soon, so needless to say I've been a bit busy and a little stressed. This story takes the back burner when I do have free time, as I have a lot of other hobbies and projects on top of writing. But, I have been trying to write here and there. I'm thinking about using NaNoWriMo this year to work on a bunch of my fanfiction here. But no guarantees. Anyway, on with the (short) chapter, and I hope you enjoy!

...

After a long full day touring Cair Paravel and her grounds and visiting the training fields to watch the children show off their new skills, Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie found themselves accompanying their children, and the beavers, to visit someone named Mr. Tumnus. Lucy, in particular, was so excited about this visit that she couldn't stop chattering away about this and that. However, in her excitement, she seemed to be leaving out many details, which meant Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie both shared quite a few confused looks as they walked along, and were quite shocked when the children came to a stop in front of a door in a cliffside made entirely of rock. It was almost like a cave with a door. A very cozy, intricate-looking wooden door.

"Mr. Tumnus!" Lucy called out excitedly, knocking loudly on the door. "We've come to visit! And we've brought some people we'd like you to meet!"

A sound of hooves clopping accompanied by a muffled male voice that they couldn't quite make out replied to her knock. In a few moments, the door swung open to reveal a kindly looking fawn, with a bright smile and a scarf wrapped around his neck, despite the summer weather.

"Lucy! Your majesties! Do come in." The fawn, Mr. Tumnus, answered excitedly, ushering them inside the surprisingly cozy cave.

"Oh, it is good to see you Mr. Tumnus!" Lucy exclaimed, rushing forward to give the fawn a tight hug. "It's been far too long."

"Lu, you just saw him a week ago." Edmund mock whispered teasingly, and Lucy play scowled in response.

"Yes, but I've missed him." She said with a pout.

"And I, you, your majesty." The fawn replied with a laugh. "But enough about that. Who might these friends of yours be? You should introduce me. Are they more sons of Adam and daughters of Eve like yourselves?"

"They're our parents!" Lucy burst out excitedly.

"From Spare Oom?" Tumnus replied. "How did they get here to Narnia?"

"We're not sure of that ourselves." Mr. Pevensie mused.

"Regardless of how they've arrived, I'm sure Aslan knows all about it." Mr. Beaver spoke up, pushing past the group to move inside and sit down at one of Mr. Tumnus's plush chairs near the fireplace. "There's very little the lion doesn't know about, you know."

"I wanted you to meet them, since you were my first friend in Narnia." Lucy added with a smile. "I thought it was only right that I bring them here for tea."

"And stories, if you don't mind telling them." Susan interjected. "We've told them about our experience in Narnia, but no one tells stories of the old Narnia quite like you do, Mr. Tumnus."

"Why, I'm flattered, my queen." The fawn said with a blush. "I can certainly put on some tea, and tell you a few stories, if you'd like."

"Oh please do!" Lucy pleaded.

"Very well. What tale would you like to hear?" Tumnus replied as he set the teakettle on to boil and fetched the cups and saucers.

"How about the story of the beginning of Narnia?" Peter added helpfully.

"A wonderful place to start!" Mrs. Beaver said, ushering them all to various seats in the room.

"Alright." Tumnus said, as they all settled down. "It all began when Aslan started to sing..."

...

It was a deeply conflicted Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie that returned to Cair Paravel that night, and settled into bed beside each other. The chambers were comfortable, with a summer breeze blowing lightly into their room from an open window, and the sheets the softest they had ever experienced. But still, they were uncomfortable. They sat in silence for many long moments, before Mrs. Pevensie finally spoke.

"George?" Helen spoke up softly and hesitantly.

"Yes, Helen?"

"They're so happy here. But all those stories Mr. Tumnus told. They had happy endings to be sure, but the danger! Giants, witches, hags. So many dangerous things have happened in this land."

"I know. It's more dangerous than I thought. I'm not sure what's worse, monsters we don't understand, or bombings back home that we do."

Helen frowned, deep in thought at his words. "The creatures are kind here though. That Mr. Tumnus truly cared about the children, especially Lucy. But I'm not sure a few kind souls make up for the possible danger we could face here. How do we know the beauty here isn't hiding something sinister. England seemed safe to me as well, until the war hit."

George's only reply was a hum, deep in thought himself.

It was silent again, the only sound the crickets and owls outside their window, and the soft sound of the breeze.

That was until a soft knock sounded on their chamber doors.

George rose to answer it, cracking the door a bit, to reveal Lucy standing tiredly in front of their door, rubbing her eyes and dressed in a nightgown.

"Mum, Dad? Can I sleep here tonight?" She asked hesitantly.

Suddenly, she wasn't the strangely grown-up version of their daughter anymore, but just their little Lucy. Helen rose quickly and gathered her daughter up in her arms.

"Of course, darling. Of course you can." She replied with a quick kiss to Lucy's forehead.

"Is something wrong, my little Lu?" George asked, concern lacing his voice.

"Just a little nightmare," Lucy said with a shrug and a yawn. "I get them sometimes, and normally I go to Peter's room, but I thought, since you're here now, and I used to sleep in your bed when I had nightmares, that maybe I'd ask you?" Her voice trailed off, getting softer with sleep as she spoke.

"A perfectly sound decision, darling." Helen replied, quickly tucking her into bed as she and George settled back down onto the covers as well.

"Thank you, mum." Lucy replied with a yawn, before closing her eyes and falling right back asleep.

"I've always admired her ability to fall asleep so quickly." George mused with a smile.

"Yes, it is quite a feat." Helen whispered back.

They watched her sleep silently for a moment, before George spoke up.

"We need to go back to England, Helen."

"But George, are you sure-"

"I want them to be safe. And it may not be safe right now in England, but I at least know what to expect there. I don't know how to protect them in a strange land like this. Besides. We don't belong here."

"Alright. I suppose you're right. But what will we tell the children? They love it here."

"The truth Helen. And we'll hope they still respect us enough as their parents to follow where we lead, and believe we have their best interests and heart."

"When will we tell them?"

"In the morning." George replied, laying down finally, and letting out a yawn of his own.

Helen nodded, and lay down as well. "In the morning then."

...

It was a sad, subdued family that made their way to the Lantern Waste the next day. After a breakfast conversation, and a stern word from Mr. Pevensie that made it clear the decision was final, they had informed the children that they needed to return to England where they belonged. Surprisingly, not much else was said, except for plans to be made for their children to guide them to where they had first arrived in Narnia, in hopes of finding the wardrobe that had brought them here in the first place.

The riding party they took with them was small, a few of their closest advisors, like Oreius, and friends, like the beavers. Those in attendance were silent as they traveled, wondering to themselves if all of this was truly happening, and what would become of their monarchs when they did reach Lantern Waste. Lucy, in particular, was close to tears, holding tightly to her horse's mane as they rode slowly through the woods. She'd protested a bit, but at her young age, standing up to her parents was not something she was about to do. Edmund was also quite melancholy, and was sadly whispering to his horse and seemed to be trying to comfort him. He'd not said anything either, although that was to be expected with the way he idolized their father. Peter and Susan, however, both seemed subdued, but something in their eyes made it clear they hadn't given up on remaining in Narnia just yet.

"Are we really going through with this?" Susan whispered carefully under her breath to Peter. They had both pulled their horses to the back of the group, purposefully lingering behind to talk to one another. "What if we do find the wardrobe? Can we really just leave Narnia, after everything?"

"Aslan brought us here for a reason." Peter replied without pause. "The prophecy, fighting the witch, being crowned: it was all ordained by him. If he wants us here, he'll make sure we remain here. Wardrobe or no wardrobe."

"I suppose, but shouldn't we talk to father about it more? Maybe try and convince him?"

"No," Peter replied with a shake of his head. "You know how he gets when he's determined. He won't listen to anything we have to say on the matter."

"Oh, so like you then?" Susan replied in a lightly teasing tone, trying to lighten the mood.

Peter replied with a quick smile, before turning back and intently studying the road before them. They rode in silence the rest of the way there, and before long, Lantern Waste was in sight.

Even in summer sunlight, the lantern's glow was clearly seen through the trees, its abnormal glow brightly twinkling merrily.

Mrs. Pevensie suddenly broke the party's silence.

"Who keeps the lantern lit?" She wondered aloud.

"No one, my lady." Mr. Beaver replied. "It was grown here from the beginning of the world, they say. Aslan himself made it grow, and keeps it lit."

"That's impossible, a lantern isn't even alive. It can't grow." Mr. Pevensie scoffed.

"Aslan is well known for doing the impossible." Edmund's horse spoke up.

"Well, be that as it may, we have a wardrobe to find." Mr. Pevensie replied, turning to face the children. "Lucy, do you think you can find it?"

Lucy sadly nodded and slid off of her horse to the forest floor. She turned this way and that, carefully surveying the forest around her, before she silently pointed in one direction, and the group began to follow.

They wandered through the woods, this way and that. Occasionally, one of the children would speak up to add that a tree looked familiar, or hadn't they seen that rock before, and on and on it went. Until, suddenly, after wandering for about an hour or so, they were back at the lantern, where they had started.

"I thought I knew where we were going..." Lucy said.

"I mean, that tree looked right to me. Maybe we should have gone left instead?" Edmund mused.

"All the trees look the same, Ed. They're all pine trees." Peter interjected.

"Well, maybe we should try-" Susan began when suddenly she was cut off by a loud sound.

It was a roar. A powerful roar, so loud that it shook the ground and the trees and everything around them. So loud that everyone in the group covered their ears to try to block out the sound.

The roar kept going, vibrating their very beings, that even when it had finally stopped, its feeling remained.

Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie shared a look with each other, then looked at their children, and the other creatures around them. It was as if they all had suddenly come to the exact same conclusion.

"We're not going to find the wardrobe, are we?" Mrs. Pevensie spoke up timidly.

Mr. Beaver laughed heartily. "It would seem the Lion has other plans for you."

They looked at each other once again, and Peter and Susan shared a smile.

"Well, if we can't find the wardrobe, then I guess that means we're staying?" Edmund asked hopefully.

"I don't know if that is a good idea-" Mr. Pevensie began, before he was cut off once again by another roar. Although this time it was quicker and not quite so loud, it still left a firm impression on them all.

Lucy giggled in response and smiled knowingly at all of them. "I think Aslan wants us to stay."

"Since we can't find the wardrobe, I would have to say Lu is on to something." Peter added, ruffling her hair fondly.

"But what about England?" Mr. Pevensie spoke up anxiously. "Surely people there will be wondering where we are! And my regiment! They'll surely think of me as a deserter if I simply disappear. And the house will need looking after, and-"

"Aslan will provide a way when it is time." Mr. Beaver spoke up firmly, a wise glint in his eye. "And until then, there's nothing you can do about it. If you're meant to return, he'll make it clear to you. But right now, I think it's clear he means for the opposite to happen."

Mr. Pevensie was silent, an anxious battle taking place on his face, but eventually, he nodded in acceptance.

"I suppose if he's the one who brought us here, and he's the only one who can bring us back, that we'll have to stay."

A chorus of excited cheers erupted from their children, and the rest of the group joined in.

"I apologize for wasting everyone's time then." Mr. Pevensie added sheepishly, rubbing his neck. "We'd better return to the castle before it gets dark, I suppose."

"Oh thank you, father!" Lucy said happily, grabbing his waist and pulling him into a tight hug. "I can't wait to show you all of Narnia, and let you meet all of the wonderful creatures that live here, and all of my new friends, like the bluebirds, and the black dwarves, and the..."

Lucy's voice trailed off, as she pulled their father away towards the horses once again, to begin the journey back to Cair Paravel.

Susan gave Peter a small smile and relieved sigh.

"I suppose that's settled then." She said.

"For now." Peter replied. "And weren't you the one last time insisting we return home?"

"Yes, well," Susan coughed. "Things have changed. We're needed here in Narnia. We can't return to England now, not with the way things are."

"I don't think father has given up trying to find a way back."

"And he probably never truly will. But Mr. Beaver was right. Unless Aslan wants us to go home, we'll remain here. Now, let's go home, shall we?" She straightened her skirts, and with a determined stride, walked back to her horse and mounted quickly. Peter followed suit, and within moments, the party was headed back to the Cair; back home.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's note: Long time no update ^^; I have a good excuse though! I recently moved countries and got a new full-time job. So things have been great for me, but crazy busy! So my writing has kind of fallen to the backburner in all the things I needed to do. Anyways, thank you to all who are still reading. I will try and get updates up for this story in a slightly more timely manner from now if I can. Enjoy the chapter!_

...

Edmund Pevensie had never been more content in his entire life than he had been of late. Except maybe when Alsan forgave him after the witch, but really, what could compare to that?

Regardless, Edmund was beyond excited that not only had he and his siblings remained in Narnia, but now it seemed that their parents would as well. At least until Aslan said otherwise. But personally, Edmund wasn't worried about that. Aslan had told Peter once that he and his siblings were meant to rule, and he believed that with all his heart. They were meant to be here in Narnia, and Aslan wouldn't allow them to leave until their work here was truly done.

But although he was glad to still be in Narnia and have his parents here too, he could have done without his father's nervous energy.

It seemed that since they had come to the conclusion that all of the Pevensies would remain in Narnia, his father had grown more and more concerned about their safety. Edmund supposed he should be grateful he cared so much, but honestly, it was becoming a bit much.

Within the month since the incident at the lampost, his father had insisted on reviewing all battles and skirmishes Narnia had been involved in since the defeat of the witch, as well as going over records of their army and its provisions, and reviewing detailed accounts of historical enemies of Narnia. Which Edmund had to admit, there were quite a few. Many of whom, like the Calormenes, Narnia hadn't contacted in a long time. One of the many things they had to do, he supposed. But in their defense, they had recently had been preoccupied with restoring Narnia to its former glory.

However, his father's incessant questions and researching had been distracting him from things he needed to do. It seemed every time he turned around, his father had something new he needed to know, another thing he had questions about, or something he needed answers to. Frankly, Edmund was a bit put out.

All this to say, Edmund was feeling currently quite annoyed, as he, his father, and Peter stood on the training field, having been dragged there by their father after breakfast with very little explanation. Edmund had a lot of work to get done today. Being a monarch wasn't easy, especially being so young and also having to finish school work for his tutors! He didn't have time for an extra training session. But since it was their father, he didn't feel like he could say no, so he stood next to a confused looking Peter and tried to not look too put out.

"Boys, I've come to a conclusion." Their father began, pacing a bit back and forth in front of them, with his hands behind his back, like a general instructing his troops. "Narnia has historically faced many enemies and threats. Even now, you have attacks from fell beasts a constant threat. And in the north, I would bet anything that those mountains are still full of giants, even though they haven't been heard from in some time. I would also venture to guess that those Calormen in the south haven't become friendlier either. So it's of vital importance, that if we stay here, you are prepared for the inevitable hardships and war you will face."

Edmund's face twitched as he fought not to roll his eyes, at the same time Peter spoke up.

"That's certainly true, father." Peter conceded, sounding remarkably even-toned. "But we're already training under the best generals Narnia has to offer. What else would we need to do other than that?"

Their father smiled. "Why, the one thing I can teach you that your general hasn't!"

"I highly doubt you've learned how to build a revolver out of things found here in Narnia." Edmund replied in a deadpan tone.

His father smirked and let out a small laugh. "No, unfortunately, I'm still without my weapon. But I don't need a weapon for what I'm going to teach you. It would defeat the point actually."

"Ah, so hand-to-hand combat then?" Peter guessed.

"Precisely!" Their father responded with glee. "So get ready boys! We're not leaving this field today until I'm satisfied!"

Both boys shared a look and groaned. It was going to be a long day.

...

Peter's arms felt like lead. There were surely bruises all over his arms and legs both, and maybe his backside too from the number of times he had fallen. And he was sure it was past lunchtime as well from the grumbling of his stomach. Still, their father hadn't let up on them at all.

"One more time boys! Edmund, watch your stance. And Peter, don't hold back! Your enemy certainly won't on the battlefield."

Peter let out another groan, and stood to his feet, wiping the rivers of sweat off of his forehead and lunging for Edmund once again. They were both getting quite exhausted at this point. Surely he had to let up soon.

Edmund gave him a look, one that Peter couldn't quite read but was certain only spelled trouble, before completely ducking away from Peter as he ran towards him, causing him to let out a startled yelp and trip to the ground. He caught himself with his hands and fell to the ground with a groan before rolling to lie on his back in the grass. Their father let out a noise of protest, but before he could say anything Edmund threw himself down on the grass next to him with a laugh and a smirk.

"Sorry Pete! I just couldn't be bothered anymore." He exclaimed, entirely too cheerily. Peter mustered the energy to turn his head and give him a half-hearted glare, which Edmund responded to with a laugh.

"I suppose it could be time for a break." Their father mused. "Although we'll certainly have quite a few things to work on for next time..." He mused aloud and began mumbling to himself about their next session. Peter let out a loud groan in response and covered his face tiredly with his hands

"Oh, chin up Pete!" Edmund said with a sickly sweet smile. "All the more chances for me to beat you soundly! Sounds like a grand time."

"Hush up, Ed." He said as grumpily as he could manage through the smile on his lips.

Suddenly from across the training field came the deep chuckle of a centaur. All three Pevensie's turned to see Oreius approaching them.

"It would seem I have not been pushing you near far enough in your training, your majesties, if such a short lesson causes you to be winded so." He said as Peter and Edmund rose to their feet once again.

Peter could never tell when Oreius was joking and when he was serious. Or understand the pure forms of sarcasm Edmund used if he was being honest. But his brother and father both seemed to think it was a joke, and began to chuckle.

"I think we're fine all the same Orieus." Peter replied, hoping that it really was a joke. Orieus was a brilliant general, but quite a hard teacher. Peter was already tired enough after regular training with him. He couldn't imagine having to do even more than they already did!

Orieus smiled slightly in response but didn't respond.

"Well, boys, let's get back to the castle." Their father said, waving his hand and moving into step beside Orieus, leading them back to the castle. Peter and Edmund walked behind them, quietly listening to their conversation as they tried to catch their breath.

"Say, general, I've been examining some of the Narnian strategies in those books you recommended. Quite an interesting read! But have you thought about improving...?" Peter heard his father begin to talk with Orieus, before his concentration was pulled away from their conversation by Edmund who had let out an exasperated groan.

"What now, Ed?" He asked, taking in Edmund's strange expression.

"I appreciate his knowledge and interest in Narnian history, but do you think he'll ever give it a rest?" Edmund asked, his voice raising practically into a whine.

"Father? Not a chance." Peter replied with a scoff. "Mark my words, he'll keep doing this until he's completely reformed the army and made sure everyone, not just us, is a master in hand-to-hand combat as well."

"Ugh, I hope not." Edmund replied, making a disgusted face. "Hey, wait a minute, did you see that?" He dropped his voice to a whisper.

"See what?" Peter whispered back.

"Father and Orieus just shook hands. Whatever do you suppose that means?"

Peter's lips quirked up into a smile. "I think that might mean we have a new general."

Sure enough, that moment their father turned around to face them. "Boys, I think Orieus here has come up with a splendid idea!" He exclaimed, happily clapping Orieus on the flank as if he were patting the back of an old college chum and not the most formidable centaur and general in the Narnian army. "How would you feel if I started improving Narnian strategies by adding some good old English strategies?"

Peter and Edmund shared a look.

"Told you so." Peter whispered with a laugh.

...

Helen Pevensie was a practical woman. She always prided herself on finding useful things to do. Be it around the house or at work elsewhere, Helen was nothing if not efficient and helpful wherever she went.

This was normally something she considered a good trait, but here, in this new strange land, her practical skills were of no use. All of the housework in Cair Paravel was taken care of by various creatures who bustled around constantly. And because of her children's status, she was seen as some sort of lady, and expressly forbid by many of the creatures from doing any housework.

She could visit the kitchens and help cook, and she often did visit the kitchen staff to chat and help bake different pastries and offer advice. But the kitchen was fully staffed, and although she could help, they often didn't truly need her there. They were happy to have her, of course, but they could easily get their jobs done without her there.

Every other skill she had, it was the same. The gardens were well kept, the staff of the castle's library didn't need any assistance, and she was helplessly lost when it came to weapons. So, with nothing to do, she found herself wandering quite a lot, her mind lost in thought.

Her husband, on the other hand, had seemed to fit right into Narnia, despite all his earlier reluctance. He'd somehow managed to cement himself firmly as Orieus's right-hand man, helping examine and improve various military strategies, and even personally teaching many of the Narnian's how to fight without their weapons. He was flourishing in his role and had made many friends amongst the Narnians. They'd even taken to teaching him sword fighting in return, as well as other traditional Narnian fighting styles, which he'd grown to quickly excel at as well. He could often be found attempting to explain a concept he had learned from the war in England to the Narnian's in terms they could understand, or happily joining them on the training field learning more about their techniques. Helen was quite happy for him, truly, but she couldn't help but feel it was unfortunate she hadn't found anything of the same to claim as her own in this new world.

Even her children had roles they could call their own. They were all wonderful monarchs, and each had something special to offer.

Peter, she was not surprised to find, was a natural statesman. She often heard whispers of him being referred to as the "magnificent," and she couldn't help but agree. He was a natural at overseeing the large picture of the kingdom and seemed to at times radiate a kingly aura. He was truly a leader, and he grew more into the role every day. Helen could easily see the "magnificent" king he was becoming.

However, for all of Peter's magnificence, Helen could tell he was still a young man, and the stress of being a ruler could be too much for even grown men to bear. She often found him working late at night by candlelight in the library, pouring over paperwork with seemingly no end in sight. On those nights, she would lightly draw him out of his concentration with a hand on his shoulder and a soft kiss to his cheek, and send him off to bed. He usually put up a token protest, but then tiredness would win and he would say goodnight with a yawn before heading to his chambers.

She knew one day Peter would be a great king, but right now he simply had to be reminded to take care of himself as well as the kingdom.

Her Susan was a natural hostess, taking charge of keeping the castle in order and hosting various guests to the castle. She shone the most when planning the practical details of day-to-day life, or the greatest parties and feasts. But she was also approachable to each and every one of her subjects, seemingly always there to listen when they had a problem. The Narnians often called her "gentle," something Helen had never associated with her daughter before now, but could clearly see growing in her day by day.

With Susan, Helen often found it wasn't her time that was taken up by her duties, not like Peter. With Susan, it was her emotions. Susan could fret with the best of them, and Helen should know. She was an expert at fretting over her own family. But Susan often let the worries and troubles of her subjects weigh her down. In those times when Susan was overwhelmed, Helen would make her a cup of tea and let her spill out her worries and fears and remind her that even a Queen can only do so much.

Someday, Susan would learn to use her feelings to her advantage, but for now, she was still a young woman who was still learning.

Edmund was the most unrecognizable in his roles. He had become a determined young man, with a strong sense of right and wrong. The Narnians called him "just," and Helen could easily see him taking over judging the affairs of Narnia as he grew older. For now, his sense of justice shined in his daily studies on lawmaking, where he could often be seen discussing the best course of action in various scenarios with his tutors, and often stumping them with his hard questions in an attempt to get to the root of a matter.

Edmund often seemed to have some sort of misplaced guilt, but she couldn't always place why. Maybe it was his past actions he had shared with them, or maybe it was the pressure of being a monarch and the many chances to make a mistake that would affect many, she wasn't sure. But she did know that her youngest son often seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, a familiar, sad expression on his face. So Helen made it her mission to never let her son get lost within his own mind. She would sweep him up in a conversation about his studies, his hopes and dreams for what Narnia could become, and keep him from thinking too deeply and dwelling on the past. And she always made sure to tell him how much she loved him as often as possible. Although it sometimes made him embarrassed, she still wanted to make sure he never forgot.

One day, Edmund would become confident in himself, and maybe even learn to forgive himself as the rest of Narnia had. But, for now, she would have enough love and forgiveness for both of them.

As for her youngest, well, Lucy was simply Lucy. It simply seemed that Narnia had amplified Lucy's beautiful personality to an otherworldly amount. Her youngest's enthusiasm, joy, and loyalty to Aslan and Narnia were truly inspiring to see and inspired people and creatures alike wherever she went. The people called her "valiant," and Helen could easily see why. Her daughter was certainly a brave and wonderful soul. One day, she would become an amazing young woman.

However, for now, Lucy was still so young. Although she had grown, Helen could still tell her daughter was a child. Sometimes the stresses of being a monarch at such a young age could overwhelm her. Sometimes, she simply needed to be a child. For Helen, it was easy to make sure her daughter could find time to run and play. She would often sweep her daughter out of the palace, making her promise not to be back before supper and not to return without at least a few spots of mud on her gown from running or climbing or whatever else she decided to get up to.

Lucy would grow into a shining young woman someday, but for now, she was still Helen's little girl.

So although Helen often felt out of place here in this strange world, and wasn't quite sure what her place would be just yet, she did feel at home here in Narnia. Her family was here, and they were thriving and happy. And honestly, she couldn't have asked for more.

Maybe her place was simply this; to watch out for her children and husband and see to their happiness. Or maybe, someday, she'd find her own place like her family had. But for now, she was happy to take care of those around her and enjoy the peace that Narnia would bring.


End file.
